Renaissance
by Naviar
Summary: When Gilbert dies across the Berlin Wall, Ludwig is shattered. But when the Berlin wall falls, Who stands behind it? A little Russian-speaking bastard, that's who. Parental?Ludwig and Little!Gilbert.
1. Chapter 1

"No! You can't leave!" Ludwig shouted, as Gilbert was steered away by Ivan. "It goes against protocol! We are entitled to five minutes before departure!"

The Russian stopped.

"Russia, 'e is right…" Francis said quietly.

The looming Russian turned around, pleasant smile on his face. "But of course, France. How could I have forgotten?" He faced Gilbert, who had his head down and a nasty look on his face. "I will come for you in exactly five minutes. Don't forget it!" the creepy man said in a singsong voice.

"Erm, we'll, uh, leave you to it too." Arthur said, trying to overlook the pained look in Ludwig's eyes as he refused to look anywhere but Gilbert. "…Remember that you can't go over the time limit, or else there's nasty paperwork to sign."

And with that, the German brothers were left alone.

"West…" Gilbert said, looking up. His crimson eyes swam with tears even he couldn't hold back. He opened his mouth to say something more, but he was cut off by Ludwig rushing towards him.

"Don't say anything." Ludwig murmured, hugging his brother tighter, and closer to him than he had ever dared to when he was little.

"It's alright, West. I'm not going to die from a little separation. Besides, Russia couldn't be so bad I'd want to kill myself!" the albino chuckled, attempting to remove himself from his brother's grip.

"You promise?"

"Ludwig, do we really have to go through this? I thought you got over the 'pinky promise' thing back in the 17th century?"

Silence.

"Fine, fine, where do I sign?" Gilbert said, still attempting to maneuver himself out of his position.

Ludwig chuckled, still refusing to let Gilbert go. He was going to savour every last minute of their time together. After all, they only had 3 left, and who knew how long it would be before they would even be able to catch a glimpse at one another.

"Remember Gilbert… whatever happens over there, I'll still be waiting for you."

"We will get passed this, West. They won't be able to separate us for long."

Gilbert wrapped his arms around Ludwig, burying his face into his shoulders, and finally accepting Ludwig's hug. He breathed in, taking in Ludwig's scent for the last time.

"Time's up!" Ivan called, opening the door without warning.

The brothers pulled away, casting aside the anguish, and taking on the strong faces that everyone knew them for.

"Auf Wiedersehen, bruder." Ludwig called as Gilbert turned away.

Raising his hand, turning his head, and flashing his trademark grin, Gilbert responded "Auf Wiedersehen, bruder."

And with that, the Russian placed his hand on Gilbert's back, and pushed him out of the room, leaving a chilling grin, and the scent of winter behind.

"He's gone, Germany."

When he heard those words, he knew it couldn't be true. The wall had gone up a month ago, and Germany had faith that his brother would be able to handle whatever treatment Russia gave him. It would be hard, yes, it would take a while to get over it, yes, but Gilbert had promised him that he wouldn't die over there. It was illogical. They'd both agreed on it. Separation would never be the end of Gilbert. On the contrary, it might have actually helped the Prussian state get back on his feet.

Sure, the formation of the German Democratic Republic was worrisome, but there was no reason to get anxious about it. Prussia would be its face, right? If anything, it would strengthen him both mentally and physically. Both of them knew that with the state that Russia's Soviet Union was in, Ivan wouldn't be able to keep it going like he planned.

There was no way he could have died. It wasn't planned that way.

But he had.

"There will be a service for him in Russia, where you can arrange his place of burial with Ivan."

Britain was speaking, but the words were muffled and vague in Ludwig's ears. He'd have to be buried in Germany. He would fight with every last ounce of his strength to make sure his brother would be buried in his country, not that bastard's country.

"Hey Germany, are you alright, man? Ya look a little pale or something."

"You idiot! I've just told him that his brother is dead, and you're asking him if he's okay?"

"Calm down! I was just askin'!"

This soon bloomed into one of the all-too familiar scenes between Arthur, Alfred, and Francis. Instead of chastising the trio, and yelling at them until they finally settled down, Germany simply rose from his chair, and left the room unnoticed. He needed time to think.

He hadn't even died where Germany could see him. He had to have been in Russia when he died. 'Well, Russian territory, anyways' Ludwig thought bitterly. What was worst of all was that there was no body to mourn over, Ivan not there to punch. He had to rely on Arthur's word for the information. He didn't even have a person to hug. Ludwig supposed he could call Italy, but he'd just get sad too, and there was no use in deflating the Italian's exuberant personality. In fact, that would only depress the Germanic nation more.

Who would attend his service? He couldn't spread the news to Roderich. He wouldn't be able to bear the uncaring in his eyes. There was no way he would show up. He'd probably stay home and play his piano to celebrate. Of course, because Roderich wasn't going, Elizaveta wouldn't be allowed either. Not that she would even care. Gilbert had caused her a lot of strife in the past. She wouldn't mourn him. Before the wall was put up, he'd heard Gilbert go at length to inform him about a person by the name of Matthew, but where in the world was he supposed to find a person named Matthew? There was nobody else that Ludwig could think of who would care about Gilbert.

It was true. The number of people who actually cared about Gilbert was very minimal.

His mind racing, Ludwig approached his car, unlocked the door, got in, and cried.

Gilbert was gone, and there was no way to bring him back

Author's Note:

So, here's my first "definitely going to be a multichapter!

PRAUS, sorry about my "I'll do a second chapter". Don't count on it for quite a while ^^

This came into being due to a few of my favourite fanfictions, the most notable being kivaember's Reborn, and Scrapbook. Read them if you haven't already! I've taken a leaf out of nearly every Prussia/Germany story out there, taking what I liked from them and putting them into this story.

This won't have a strict "plot", so I don't know how it'll "end". I'll find a way to wrap things up though!

One of the main reasons this was done is because the word "Renaissance" means reborn. I thought it was ironic, with the fact that Prussia was from the Renaissance.

Well, that's a long enough review for now! Review if you'd like! It'd be much appreciated!


	2. Chapter 2

Renaissance Ch. 2

Bright autumn leaves fell, scattering the city in a plethora of warm shades. The contrasting cold air made it cool enough for a jacket, but warm enough to keep comfortable. Parks were littered with maple leaves, and benches quickly became occupied by couples enjoying the sights. Children played in mounds of fallen leaves, begging their parents to stay for "Just one more minute, please?" The crisp fall day's atmosphere was a joyful one. Who wouldn't enjoy the sights of Berlin in the fall?

Taking in everything Germany's fall had to offer, its personification walked around the park. Even though there wasn't a whole lot to be happy about nowadays, there was something so simple and pleasing about a clear fall day. The sight of his people enjoying their lives despite what they'd been through inspired him to move on. After all, his strength was their strength, and it takes a lot to put down the German nation.

Approaching the Wall, Ludwig finally found a free seat. First clearing the spot of leaves, he sat down to reflect on what might happen. It was clear that Ivan's power was fading. His perfect Soviet Union was crumbling from the inside out, ever since they began accepting complaints. The way things were headed, Ludwig would be surprised if the Union lasted more than another month.

And supposing that the Soviets really did fall, what would come of it? Surely, East Germany would be returned to him. The prospect didn't really seem too exciting. When Gilbert passed, Ludwig was not left with a feeling of fulfillment. He should have felt his brother join with him, and since he had not, Ludwig grew wary of something more being conspired behind that infamous wall. He had attended the funeral and the truth was quite clear. Gilbert was no longer with them. But then, why did Ludwig still feel empty?

Standing up, Ludwig paced alongside the Wall.

Today was October 3rd, 1990. And something was different. The people had been antsy ever since people had been allowed across the wall. Ivan's control of the situation was loose, and East Berliners were quickly making their way to the West. The question on everyone's mind was: When was the wall going to come down? Ivan clearly wasn't going to take it down himself, and so after nearly 30 years of pain and frustration, the people took it upon themselves to tear the wall to pieces.

It all happened very quickly. The people gathered, and there seemed to be a mutual understanding that this was the last day for the wall, and that the German people would have none of it any longer. They came with pickaxes, hammers, shovels, and many with just their bare hands. Before Ludwig could blink, he felt the emotion of the entirety of Berlin. The oppression felt by the East, the passion and pain of the West, and the begging for unity between the two. Though his connection to the Eastern people was weaker, he could feel their pain as though it was his own.

Before he knew it, Ludwig saw Alfred leading on the American sector, Arthur encouraging the English sector, and even Francis, standing at the forefront of the French sector. They gave their nod, proving they were ready to take down the Wall that had killed his brother.

Getting caught up in the sheer force of emotion, Ludwig began commanding the people, taking charge, telling them that they could and would finally do it. They unleashed their anger upon the wall, and managed to take it down in a matter of minutes.

People ran in a mad scramble to find their loved ones, their lost children, their newfound grandchildren. Names permeated the air, filling it with the universal sound of emotion, and the connection of people long separated.

It was then that Ludwig realized he had nobody to welcome back. There was nobody to hug in a crazed frenzy of happiness. His heart turned cold as the crisp air he breathed as he turned to Alfred, knowing who he now had to face.

The young American, though exhilarated, took on a serious tone, telling him "You know what you have to do. Go give that Commie hell for me!"

Smiling for the first time in what seemed like ages, Ludwig turned to Arthur and Francis, the more mature of the three nations. Though Arthur looked like he was going to say something in protest, Francis placed a gloved hand over the blushing Brit's mouth, leaning forward and saying "You have suffered enough mon ami. Finish this in whatever way you feel that you 'ave to."

Thanking him silently, Ludwig stood up to his full height and turned towards the East side where surely the Russian stood, awaiting a confrontation. Stepping over the rubble, Ludwig searched the wall for the man with the lavender eyes, a beige scarf, and the creepy smile.

Off in the distance, Ludwig saw his nemesis. Scarf waving and coat billowing, the blue eyed man could just imagine the grin on his face and the glint in his eyes. Malice filled Ludwig at the mere sight of the tall Russian.

Imagining Gilbert's blood red eyes and snow white hair, tears pricked at Ludwig's eyes, refusing to give Ivan the satisfaction of seeing them fall. He was the reason that the German was alone. He was the reason that Gilbert had to say his final goodbye. He was the reason that his country had faced 30 years of separation, keeping families from seeing each other and lovers from being with each other.

It was time that Ludwig made his stand against that man in beige. Stepping towards him with solidarity and a look that could kill at one glance, he fluidly pulled out his gun, and pointed it at the Russian.

"I will never forgive you for what you did to my country! My brother died at your hands, and all you can do is grin like a madman! For what you've done, you deserve to die, you bastard!" Ludwig yelled, gritting his teeth against the tears. His grip on the trigger tightened, nearly setting off the bullet when Ivan interrupted.

"Germany, I think you should see something first."

Ludwig hadn't bothered to look down in the heat of everything. Things had gone so quickly and when all he could think about was facing Ivan and giving him a piece of his mind, he hadn't bothered himself with where they were, what they were doing, and even who they were in the presence of.

Turning around, Ludwig saw the gaping faces of Alfred, Arthur, and Francis. Shocked, he snapped his head back to Ivan, attempting to break down the grin on his face. Following the gaze of the three men behind him led him to the stunning sight before him.

"What are yo-"the German started, cutting off his own sentence.

Behind Ivan, clutching his coat stood a boy that could be no older than 5. His bright red eyes looked up at Germany in wonder, seemingly unafraid. Tufts of snow white hair glinted silver in the sunlight, mesmerizing Ludwig. Though his expression showed defiance to the four men ogling at him, his grip on Ivan's billowing winter coat tightened, betraying his fear. Glancing away from them, he looked up at the tall Russian with a glare and frown asking, "Почему они смотрят на меня?" in a voice that demanded an answer.

Looking down, Ivan quickly chastised the child, telling him he had to speak English here, reminding him that not everyone in the world knows Russian.

While Ivan gave a small lesson to the little boy, Ludwig's mind was racing. Everything about him was exactly like Gilbert. His hair, eyes, lack of skin color… but Ludwig knew that all those things could be mimicked very easily. No, what convinced the German was his tone of voice, and the general backtalk and disrespect the small child had towards the Russian, regardless of the fact that it would take him no effort to snap his neck in two. There was no mistaking that this child was Gilbert.

Standing upright again, Ivan readied himself for an explanation.

"This is… Gilbert. I attempted renaming him East, but he didn't take to the name very well," he said, glancing down at the child, pouting at the mention of East. "He appeared at the Wall shortly after Gilbert's passing, and I took the liberty of raising him. He has not grown any more since I found him, and he appears to be four years old when he is in reality about 30 years old. He knows both English and Russian, though he will speak what he wants, when he wants. His preference for today is, evidently, Russian."

"And you decided not to inform us of him?" the British man asked, tearing his eyes away from the boy kicking the ground.

"I thought it necessary at the time." He said, keeping his answer to a minimum.

"He is a representative of German territory. The falling of the Berlin Wall marks his freedom. You will have to give him up to Germany." Arthur responded, wary of the response. They could easily be waging war over this boy.

Meanwhile, Ludwig could not keep up with the speed of the conversation. Gilbert was alive? Was this really Gilbert? Would he have to raise him in his own household? Why on earth didn't the Germanic boy learn German? What if he didn't like Ludwig? Everything from his favourite kinds of food to how to deal with him politically raced through Ludwig's mind. One moment Gilbert was dead, and now he's been reborn?

"I didn't anticipate that the Berlin Wall would fall today. You must allow me some time to explain to the boy what has happened. I will need a week at the very least." Ivan reasoned, placing a hand on Gilbert's shoulder, much to his irritation.

The three burst into an argument, half against Ivan, and half amongst themselves. The din kept rising, as each attempted to be heard.

"I won't allow it." Ludwig said sternly. Gilbert looked up from his pout in interest, blinking curiously at his now-elder brother.

"Gilbert comes with me no matter what. I won't accept anything else."

"Ludwig, you can't just demand that! If he-" England interjected, attempting to reason with the stubborn German.

"I won't tolerate any other options. It's this or war." His expression was stern, and the three behind him began chattering like squirrels.

It was a battle between brothers. If Ludwig allowed Russia to take a week in explaining what was going to happen, he would attempt brainwashing Gilbert into believing that Germany was a bad person, forcing him to give back Gilbert if he wished for his happiness. If, however, he managed to convince Russia to let him take Gilbert now, he may have a chance at rekindling a relationship, and slowly purging the Russian from his mind.

Both were very aware of these facts, and neither would give in. The glinting lavender in Ivan's eyes showed determination, and the unwillingness to give up Gilbert. Somewhere in those 30 years, he had formed a bond with Gilbert. He wasn't about to give it up.

When it seemed as though all was lost, and war would be declared for the possession of Gilbert, Ludwig had a thought.

"Ivan, let him grow up where he can see the flowers bloom each spring, and where he can see the leaves change colour in the fall. Let him see the hot summer, and cold winter. My country has all of these things. Let him grow up as a child should."

The amethyst eyes changed from hard with determination to soft with understanding. Looking into Gilbert's eyes, he thought of how much he had loved the warmer weather in the summer. They didn't get much of it, but how he loved it. If he could just swallow his pride as a nation and as a person, he could give this boy a chance at a life without General Winter.

"…If the boy goes with you, he will not live." Ivan said sadly.

"What are you talking about? Of course he will live!"

"Germany. Think sensibly. This boy is the representation of the German Democratic Republic. If the two are to join, one will have to go. The strongest always wins." The Russian continued grimly, placing a hand on Gilbert's shoulder.

Though that small movement irritated Ludwig, he knew he had to keep his head. Gilbert might as well be dead if he stayed with Russia. It's not like Ivan would let anyone else near him. He presented a new argument, one that might just win.

"What about the Italian brothers? They were rejoined, and Romano is still with us. When Prussia and I were first unified, Prussia didn't fade." Ludwig argued.

"Prussia no longer exists. The Italys may be a special case. Nobody knows how this world works, Germany. Are you willing to wager Gilbert's life on it?"

"Yes."

The silence that followed was one that not even Alfred could break. The only sound heard was the wind in their ears, and the flapping of Ivan's scarf.

"Я хочу пойти." Gilbert said, his voice high pitched yet displaying a sense of certainty. His eyes were trained on Ludwig, in a sense of wonder that made the German nation's heart sing with pride. He would be the best big bruder he could be.

"Вы уверены?" Ivan asked, stooping down to Gilbert's level.

"Да, Poccия." The frail albino responded, voice cold as ice.

Still, a pause remained in the air. Russia stood to his full height, meeting eyes with Ludwig. Something in the strong nation had broken. Shutting his eyes and lowering his voice to a near whisper, he said the words "Yes, he can go with you now."

Kneeling down with a grin on his face, he opened his arms for the little Germanic nation. Gilbert's face split into a grin, and he went on the instinct of his birthplace, and ran towards the brother he never knew.

Ludwig lifted him into the air, holding him tighter than ever before, all the while crying in his tiny shoulder. Looking into his shining crimson eyes, he ruffled the white hair that made him so distinctive. He would keep this boy safe from anything.

Gilbert's laugh filled the air, so different from laugh Prussia made. Ludwig vowed to always make his little bruder laugh, too. It sounded so wonderful.

Glancing up at the Russia, who stood alone against the 5 of them, Ludwig could not help but be thankful towards him. Though the wall had caused so much strife and despair, it gave him this little one to care for, and a new reason to live.

Gilbert was back, and nothing was taking him away from him again.

Author's Note:

Written at 1:00am. This will definitely need revising in the morning! Hopefully this story is an enjoyable one! I'm debating bringing up another confict, or just filling the rest with unadulterated fluff. Let me know what you think!

"Почему они смотрят на меня?" – Why are they looking at me?

"Я хочу пойти." – I want to go.

"Вы уверены?" - Are you sure?

"Да, Poccия." – Yes, Russia


	3. Chapter 3

The drive home was fairly awkward. After all, what's the etiquette when you're bringing back a brother you never knew you had from what he believed was home? Gilbert had his head firmly turned to the side, avoiding Ludwig at all costs. Any time Ludwig attempted small talk, Gilbert seemed to have a rule of answering only in Russian. He knew Ludwig couldn't understand him, and he used that to his advantage. Apparently, Russian control hadn't darkened his spirit. He pouted with a ferocity that could rival a rabid tiger.

Thankfully, Ludwig pulled into the driveway, hoping that once Gilbert got in the house the German blood in him would remind him of what his language really is.

"Come on Gilbert," Ludwig said, reaching over to the passenger seat, and unbuckling it for the young nation. His irritation dissolved when he saw that Gilbert's pout had disappeared, and was replaced by a blank expression.

"Gilbert, we have to get out now."

"…Oh, yeah," the albino said, his voice monotone. He blinked twice, and seemed more awake. He opened the car door, and Ludwig joined him.

The little boy swayed as he walked and Ludwig actually had to hold Gilbert's hand to keep him from falling over. He led him up to the entrance. As he unlocked the door, he tugged Gilbert in with him.

A sense of familiarity washed over Gilbert, and as Ludwig led him through the various rooms of the small Berlin home Gilbert knew that this was his home, and not whatever spare room the Russian had for him at the time. Before Ludwig could finish with the tour of the second room, Gilbert had dashed out of Ludwig's grip, and ran on through the kitchen, leaping onto the couch before Ludwig could say a word.

"I remember this, Bruder!" Gilbert exclaimed, laughing as he took in the all-too-familiar smell of home.

Ludwig started, shocked at how the thick Russian accent he had in the car had fallen off of him in an instant. His voice sounded surprisingly similar to Prussia's when he spoke with a German accent.

"Bruder?" he asked, confused as to how Gilbert could know German when he hadn't heard a word of it.

"Ja? What is it?" Gilbert replied, looking up at Ludwig from a mess of covers. His bright red eyes held a childlike curiosity, and Ludwig knew right then why Ivan hadn't wanted to give him up.

"Erm… I have to show you your room."

"Oh, right! Come on then!" Gilbert shouted, running past Ludwig again, and grabbing his hand. Wasn't Ludwig supposed to be showing Gilbert his room? Why was it the other way around? Dazed, Ludwig followed Gilbert up the stairs, and opened the first door on the left, since Gilbert couldn't quite reach it yet.

As soon as Ludwig opened the door, that lost expression came back onto Gilbert's face. Suddenly, Ludwig was back to holding Gilbert's hand to keep him upright, and not to be led somewhere. They spent a few moments in silence as Gilbert took in the room.

It was almost exactly as Prussia had left it. The walls were painted a dark, Prussian blue, and the room was still messy, though all the clothes had been washed, and put away. A desk, covered in miscellaneous papers, was to the left, while a window took up most of the space in the wall across from the entrance. To the right was a bed, with a full size Prussian flag taking up all the wall space. It was simple, and though Prussia spent little time in his room, he had definitely adored this room.

"We could change it if you'd like, or set you up in a different room. The layout is a little-"

"What's that?" Gilbert said, his voice quiet. He pointed to the right wall with the Prussian flag.

"That's the Pr-"

"Prussian flag, right?" Gilbert answered.

"Yes."

"I-I remember it. He…looked a lot like me, didn't he?"

"Yes, he did," Ludwig said solemnly. His grip on Gilbert's hand tightened.

"He gave up… everything for someone. I can't remember who."

"That's okay, don't worry about it."

"It was you, wasn't it?"

Before Ludwig could answer him, Gilbert's eyes had widened and he was off answering his own questions again.

"Yes, it was! He… wanted to say he was sorry before he went. I think he thought he was a bad brother. He always wanted to say that."

"Gilbert, I-"

"Bruder? What happened to him?" Gilbert said, glancing up at Ludwig with dark crimson eyes.

"He died about 30 years ago." Ludwig's voice was grim, and he felt uncomfortable with the topic. A small child like Gilbert shouldn't have to think about how all of this managed to happen. Ludwig hardly knew himself.

"Is that why I'm here now?"

"I don't really know, but I think that might be why." Ludwig answered with reluctance in his voice.

All was silent for a moment, until Ludwig heard small sobs coming from the little boy by his side. Looking down immediately, Ludwig saw Gilbert trying to wipe them all away with his sleeve. His eyes and cheeks were nearly as red as his irises, and he trembled as he tried to hold them back.

Panicking, Ludwig dropped to Gilbert's height, and tried to console him without touching him. They had only known each other for a few hours, and Ludwig didn't want to make a move that seemed too invasive too fast. He tried to think of what Prussia would have done in this case, but his mind was too frazzled to think of a coherent answer.

"Shh, don't cry! It's not something you should be worrying about! He was a brave man, and he was really strong too!" Ludwig would say anything to stop him from crying, and he was sure Prussia would have a field day with the compliments Ludwig was giving him.

"H-he was so sad… and he c-couldn't even say g-goodbye!" Gilbert wailed.

And Ludwig could resist no longer. He pulled Gilbert into his arms and ruffled his stark white hair like he's wanted to the moment he saw him. Tears formed in his eyes as he muttered, "It's okay, it's okay". Gilbert buried his head into his bruder's shoulder and Ludwig let the tears soak his dress shirt. Prussia may have been gone, but there was still Gilbert. As he rubbed the tiny albino's back, he felt his breathing even out and eventually even the tears came to a stop.

"Gilbert…?"

He pulled the boy's head away from his chest to find he had fallen asleep. Ludwig tightened his arms around Gilbert, and carefully lifted him up, trying his hardest not to jostle him. Carrying him down the stairs and through the kitchen, he laid Gilbert on the couch and wrapped him in the blankets he was playing in earlier. Smiling faintly, he brushed away the last of the tears on his cheeks.

XxX

The first thing Gilbert was aware of was the smell in the air. No matter how much of his time was spent with Russia, his soul knew and remembered the smell of good, German wurst. His eyes snapped open, and he was out of the covers in a moment.

"WURST!" He yelled, running as quickly as he could to the kitchen. He scrambled onto the kitchen chair, where sure enough, his beloved wurst was waiting.

Ludwig smiled.

"Welcome back, Bruder."

XxX

AN: I thought this thing would never get written! I had no clue where I was going for a second there! Actually, I still don't know where I'm going with this… I think it's going to turn into a drabble of Ludwig's parenting problems. Kind of funny, since Germans are really family-oriented. I've been seriously busy recently, but I'll try to get the next chapter up soon. That is, if I know what it's going to be about!

Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it! (There's a little thing called reviewing. Let me know what you think!)


	4. Chapter 4

Gilbert was pouting.

'Of course he's pouting, Ludwig! You're leaving the kid alone for the first time, and he's not even that old!' Ludwig thought to himself.

Well, technically Gilbert was 30 years old, or something like that. By country standards, 30 years is more like 7. By Gilbert standards, 7 is more like 2.

It's not like Ludwig had any choice in leaving Gilbert alone. He knew it was unfair and cruel punishment for something that (for once) Gilbert hadn't done, but he couldn't risk him being found out. Calling a regular old babysitter would be risky. If Gilbert spilled the beans, he'd be discovered in a rather forced way that could be met with mixed results. Naturally, Ivan, Alfred, Arthur and Francis knew about Gilbert. Asking one of them would be… interesting. But even that Ludwig could not do. He couldn't ask one of them to miss a World Meeting so he could go to a World Meeting. In the words of Arthur, it would be "quite daft".

And so, here he sat, eating a breakfast of pancakes with a grumpy Gilbert. The silence had been long and cold since Ludwig told Gilbert he'd be gone for an entire two days. Had this been when Gilbert had first come home, there would have been rejoicing beyond all belief. Somehow, Gilbert had become attached to "West" and spoke very little Russian. Aside from small tantrums, and the trouble Gilbert always found himself in, he was getting along very well with Ludwig. They agreed on most things, and when they disagreed, Ludwig readied the pancake batter. Pancakes were the key to the tiny German's heart.

He could have sworn that there was someone he knew who made pancakes very well…

Hmm… Was it… Canaland? Camadia? Ca…

Oh well.

Ludwig gathered up his dishes and walked towards the sink to wash them. As he reached for the tap, he heard a small noise.

Glancing behind him, his eyes focused on Gilbert, still in his little chick pyjamas. The small boy watched him with a deep frown on his face and brows furrowed. His deep maroon eyes did nothing to intimidate and they only helped to convey the betrayal on the young nation's face.

"Why are you leaving?" the little albino asked, quivering mouth betraying the tone of his voice.

Ludwig sighed. Gilbert was blowing this whole thing way too far out of proportion.

"I'm just going to a meeting. It's going to be a really big one, so I have to stay longer. Don't worry about it."

"How long?"

"I already told you, Gilbert. 2 days. It's in London, so I have to leave early. If I leave now, I'll get there for noon. The meeting starts at 2, and lasts for the rest of the day. I'll sleep in a hotel, then come back tomorrow at about 3. It'll be long, but I don't have to go to these meetings all the time" Ludwig explained in a level voice.

"It's not fair" Gilbert sniffled, wiping his snot on his sleeve.

"I know it's not fair" Ludwig replied, turning back to his dishes. His parental manual said that by not reacting to something, the child would see it as unimportant too.

"Why do you hafta go?"

"Gilbert, it's a very big, very important meeting. I have to go."

"But why?"

Ludwig sighed. "Gilbert, go get changed."

As he heard little feet walk up the staircase, the Aryan nation turned the tap off. He cleaned his hands, looking regretfully at the stairs. His manual said there would be no difficulties.

"Gilbert! I'm leaving!"

Said boy ran down the stairs, all the while glaring angrily at Ludwig. Ignoring the boy, Ludwig grabbed his jacket and explained the rules of being "home alone" to his little brother.

"Make sure to go to bed at 8, and don't watch television all the time. Books are in the library, but you have to put them back the way that you got them. Don't try to leave the house, or look through my room. If you make a big mess I will not be pleased with you when I come home. Use the computer sparingly, and remember to shower in the morning. I don't want you naked when I come home, either. Try any pranks and I will find out. Behave."

Gilbert looked at the ground.

"Yessir," he pouted, his tone of voice mocking Ludwig's authority.

Ludwig huffed. That's better than Feliciano had ever done. He leaned down the albino's height.

"I'm really sorry about having to leave. You'll be fine."

He closed the door behind him, and Gilbert listened as the deadbolt slid shut.

It had been over 48 hours. Ludwig had been through hell attempting to control the huge conference, and as per usual, not a thing had been accomplished. Somehow, Feliciano had found his way into Ludwig's hotel room and the German found himself taking care of the foolish Italian for longer than he'd intended. Returning him to Romano seemed to be a very bad idea, but he had no choice but to return the little idiot to his brother. The confrontation and lack of proper sleep left Ludwig exhausted, and the plane ride on the way back had certainly not helped. The most Ludwig could ask at the moment was that Gilbert had done as he told him to and hadn't managed to acquire cans or silly string. Thinking back on it, Ludwig should have locked the cabinet doors that held toilet paper.

The blue-eyed nation sighed as he pulled into the driveway. Knowing Gilbert, he'd come up with something completely original.

He closed his eyes as he approached the door, and slid the key in. Hearing the successful click of the door unlocking, he swung the door open.

To smell burning.

Eyes flashing open, he bolted inside the smoky house. What if Gilbert had died? He couldn't stand to lose him again. Not after he'd just found him! Ludwig swore that when he found Gilbert, he would never let him stay alone in the house again. Frantically, he began calling his name.

"Gilbert!"

…No response.

"Gilbert! Answer me!"

A shaky voice called back to him. "Bruder? West?"

Turning the corner, Ludwig could see the shadow of a little Gilbert in the kitchen. White smoke was pouring into the room at an alarming rate.

Both brothers coughing, Ludwig rushed into the kitchen and scooped up the small child. He could feel Gilbert's hands gripping his shirt tightly, and his shirt began to get wet.

"Gilbert, what did you do?" Ludwig asked, pulling Gilbert's head out of the crook in his neck.

"I… I tried to make you a cake. But I only know how to make фрукты пирожные, and you didn't have any fruit!"

The German could only smile at that. He set Gilbert down and said, "It's alright. It's only white smoke, so it isn't a bad fire. Just... don't try to cook without my permission until you know how to, okay?"

"A-Alright."

Ludwig rushed into the kitchen and removed the burning mass of black that was supposedly a cake. With those cooking skills, taking lessons from England would be an improvement to this mess. Chuckling, he opened all the windows and let the smoke dissipate slowly. Thinking Gilbert might get more upset if he saw the blackened monstrosity, Ludwig took it out to the compost bin. He secretly hoped it wouldn't kill all his plants when he used the fertilizer next. He walked back over to where Gilbert stood, exactly where he'd left him.

"It's all taken care of. There's nothing to worry about."

"Did the cake turn out okay?" Gilbert asked hesitantly, eyes refusing to leave the carpet.

"…How about we make another one?"

Gilbert's scarlet eyes shot up, and a grin filled his face.

"REALLY? West, you're AWESOME!"

It was the best cake Ludwig had ever made.

AN: Sorry about general crappiness, cheesiness, lateness, cheesiness, and… well… cheesiness. It's been crazy here at school, and I don't seem to have time for much of anything. So, write overdue fanfiction when I should be doing homework! Once again, I'm sorry about the delay for this chapter. I'll try to be more on time.

I'm also going to lighten up with the next chapter. Too much sap and tears for now.

Oh, and people, there is a wonderful account called "The Table" now, and it's where a group of us who sit at the lunch table together draw names from a hat and write fanfictions with them. I've posted my BelgiumxAustria, and I look forward to reading Ashley's (that's MelancholyMadness) crackfic. There are many, many of us, and we are all great writers, I can assure you. Let us know what you think!

фрукты пирожные means fruit pastries. Apparently Russians like pastries.


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